Strange's Journey To Hall

David Teel

April 19, 2007|By DAVID TEEL Daily Press

Like many teenagers, Curtis Strange was long on ambition but short on cash. It was the summer of 1973, and fresh off graduation from Virginia Beach's Princess Anne High, he was set to withdraw from the Southeastern Amateur golf tournament in Georgia.

No matter that Strange was an accomplished player, weeks away from joining Wake Forest's elite college program. The travel was cost prohibitive for a family of modest means -- until a friend handed him two $100 bills.

Strange won the tournament and offered to pay the gentleman back.

"You already have," he said.

Long untapped, such memories rushed into Strange's mind two weeks ago when PGA Tour commissioner Tim Finchem informed him that he'd been voted into the World Golf Hall of Fame. And they emerged again Wednesday with the official announcement.

"It's not a celebration of my career so much as all those people who helped me along the way," Strange said from Savannah, Ga., where he's competing in a seniors tournament. "They've become more emotional than I have."

Strange declined to identify his benefactor of 24 years ago but was quick to name others who nurtured his career: his late father, Tom, and mother, Nancy; his twin, Allan; Wake Forest coach Jesse Haddock; and most important, his wife, Sarah.

It was Sarah who listened to his doubts, soothed his fears and reveled in his success -- all of which came in large doses. She cared for their two sons and was the soft contrast to his prickly side.

"I think you need an inner drive that no one else can create, and he had that," Sarah said. "He always tinkered with everything. 'Let's make it better. Let's make it better.' Maybe I was the balancing force."

The tinkering produced a resume that long ago merited hall of fame inclusion: 17 PGA Tour victories, five Ryder Cup teams and three money titles. Most notably, in 1988 and '89 Strange became the first player since Ben Hogan in 1950 and '51 to win consecutive United States Opens.

Strange was 34, a golfer's prime, when he matched Hogan. But he never won again, denied by mental fatigue, a physical ailment doctors never diagnosed and the game's capricious luck.

"I don't in any way shape or form think I can compare to Hogan and (Sam) Snead and (Byron) Nelson and all the greats," Strange said. "But to be in the same hall with them certainly is fantastic."

Many of Strange's contemporaries -- Tom Kite, Payne Stewart, Ben Crenshaw and Larry Nelson to name a few -- are already in the hall with comparable records. But for reasons known only to the PGA Tour players, writers and historians with ballots, he never received the 65 percent of votes required. This year, Strange received 70 percent.

"I grope for words," he said. "It's the greatest reward you can have, to be voted in by your peers and the press."

Given Strange's occasionally contentious relations with us media jackals, feel free to giggle at the above. But truth be told, both parties were doing their jobs the best they knew how.

And Strange's way didn't always include chummy chats with reporters. He was too busy critiquing the day's round.

"I was hard on myself," Strange said. "That's the way I was made up, and I could never change. I enjoyed the pressure, I enjoyed the intensity, I enjoyed the preparation for big events. You don't succeed very often. You fail hundreds of times more often."

For example: In December of 1976, Strange failed to earn his tour playing privileges at Qualifying School; with Sarah at home with their newborn David, he lost the 1985 Masters by two shots after finding Rae's Creek twice on Sunday; he shot a final-round 75 to end his quest for a third consecutive U.S. Open in 1990.

"It wasn't all glory," Sarah laughed.

The glory, of course, was the Opens -- Strange's e-mail address ends with 8889. But others reflected Wednesday on more subtle moments.

Sarah recalled his first tour victory, the 1979 Pensacola Open. Allan remembered his final-hole eagle to win the 1974 NCAA championship, and a laser 4-iron and subsequent 5-foot birdie putt that tied Greg Norman -- Strange won the playoff -- at the 1988 Houston Open.

"I had the best seat in the house for 30 years," said Allan, a Richmond-area resident and top-flight amateur golfer.

Long-time Kingsmill residents, Curtis and Sarah moved to Morehead City, N.C., three years ago. There a content and 52-year-old Curtis fishes, messes around on his boat, prepares for low-octane seniors tournaments and helps Sarah baby-sit son Tom's Labrador puppy -- good work if you can get it.

Not that the PGA Tour was manual labor.

"The love for the game is probably the most important thing," Strange said. "It never was work for me."

His speech at the Nov. 12 induction in St. Augustine, Fla., is another matter. Bank on the stoic Strange getting misty-eyed when he acknowledges his family in the audience and talks of his dad, a club professional who died of cancer at age 38 -- when the twins were 14.